


under pressure precious things can break

by colorfulmagic, meteor-sword (vaenire)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exes Drama, Implied Past Trans Male Pregnancy, Implied/Referenced Child Death, M/M, Mild Language, Multi, trans Bato
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28825179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorfulmagic/pseuds/colorfulmagic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaenire/pseuds/meteor-sword
Summary: That was how he ended up at a party with a baffling mix of people ranging from moms who seemed obsessed with “clean eating”, various politicians from Hakoda’s work who were all too happy to ask Bato about their “unique living circumstances'', and one person who Bato hadn’t expected at all. Enough so that when Bato saw him he stared for a good ten seconds, and immediately swiveled around in search of Hakoda.//Bato encounters his ex husband at a party. It goes fine, until it doesn’t.
Relationships: Bato (Avatar) & Original Character(s), Bato/Hakoda (Avatar), Bato/Hakoda/Kya (Avatar), Bato/Kya (Avatar), past Bato (Avatar)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36
Collections: Meteor Mutual Club Extended Universe: The Originals





	under pressure precious things can break

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “please don’t say you love me” by Gabrielle Aplin 
> 
> **child death tw:** there are references to a miscarriage and a premature child death.

He just hadn’t expected it, was the thing. Hakoda and Kya had been planning for days for Sokka’s first birthday, which Bato didn’t understand and wouldn’t pretend to. 

“You realize he won’t remember any of this, right?” Bato asked bemusedly, cross legged on the floor of their living room. He lifted the balloon-- sparkly, with a cartoon dinosaur pasted on-- to his mouth and blew, grimacing at the rubbery taste. 

“You don’t remember half of college,” Hakoda pointed out in between breaths into his own balloon. “Didn’t stop you from going.” 

“I remember college. I remember— _parts_ of college, and anyway that isn’t the point. He doesn’t even have friends, who are you inviting?”

“Don’t listen to him,” Hakoda said, covering Sokka’s ears from where he was standing in his bouncer. “He’s just jealous he doesn’t have as many friends as you.” Sokka shrieked his assent, banging on the plastic table, and Bato rolled his eyes. 

So that was how he ended up at a party with a baffling mix of people ranging from moms who seemed to be obsessed with “clean eating”, various politicians from Hakoda’s work who were all too happy to ask Bato about their “unique living circumstances'', and one person who Bato hadn’t expected at all. Enough so that when Bato saw him he stared for a good ten seconds, and immediately swiveled around in search of Hakoda. 

“Very sorry, excuse me,” Bato said when he finally found him, easily chatting with a group of women who easily looked old enough to be Kanna’s friends. “You’re needed in the kitchen, there’s a problem with the, ah, appetizers.”

“Don’t keep him away for too long,” one of the ladies chided, eyes twinkling. “Your boyfriend here has the most wonderful stories, I don’t think I’ve had this much fun since my Tunok passed, bless his soul.”

“From you, Kema? I couldn’t stay away if I tried,” Hakoda winked. Kema giggled, looking like she was halfway through her glass of merlot already. Bato smiled tightly, mind racing. What was he doing here, how did he even _know—_

“What’s wrong?” Hakoda asked seriously as Bato led him away from the group, heading towards the kitchen at the edge of the room. It would be empty in there most likely, all the guests sticking to the backyard and living room for the most part. Bato shook his head, not wanting to risk being overheard. 

“What,” Bato said instead, “you were having that much fun flirting with women twice your age?”

“Five thirds at most, and ours was a purely intellectual conversation.”

“I’m sure,” Bato snorted, and he stepped into the kitchen, Hakoda trailing behind him. He was out of luck though: there were still a few stragglers hanging around the counters, and in a fit of exasperation he pulled Hakoda into the large pantry, slightly roughly. He spared a brief moment of amusement at seeing the befuddled look on Hakoda’s face as his back pressed against a row of pickled vegetables lined up in jars

“Okay,” Hakoda said, rubbing at his elbow, “if you’re about to give me a blow job I am so down for that but we’re gonna have to be quick—“

“What? No, don’t be an idiot. Look,” He stabbed his hand threateningly in the general direction of where he’d last seen Noski. Hakoda blinked.

“You dragged me in the pantry to show me the city council planning director?” He said dubiously. “Nuqsut’s a great woman, I’m sure I could introduce you if you wanted—“

Bato turned, and groaned. “No, not Nuqsut— look there.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. What is he doing here?”

"Well,” Hakoda said pragmatically, leaning around him to look. “Eating a pastry, it looks like.”

“Here?” Bato hissed. A woman he knew vaguely from Kya’s work shot him a startled look and he inched further into the pantry. 

“I invited him. Well, Kyrna,” he amended as Bato shot him a betrayed look. “But I thought he might be bringing Noski as a guest. Is that not okay?” Bato scowled. He was just opening his mouth to let him know just how not okay it was when Kya popped her head in, appraising them with a quick glance. 

“Everything okay?”

“Bato’s freaking out because Kyrna brought Noski,” Hakoda summed up succinctly, if inaccurately. 

“I am not-- _freaking out_ \-- I just think I should be warned when there’s a possibility my ex husband is about to show up in our house.” He tossed another look Noski’s way, and again there was that slow bubbling anger that came every time he saw him, roiling away in his stomach. 

Kya crossed over to him, shutting the door behind her. It was quieter now, the dim light from the single bulb above casting them in shadow. She drew a hand up to touch his cheek, brows furrowed. “Do you want me to get rid of him?” she asked. “I will, don’t think I won’t.” Hakoda laced his hand in his grip next to him, quietly supportive. Bato toyed with the idea in his head for a bit. It wasn’t unappealing, he had to admit, but he knew it would draw attention, and Kya had been stressing about this for days, making sure everything was perfect. He didn’t need his own bullshit messing things up for her. 

“No,” he said. “Thank you, but... I’ll be fine.” Well, as long as he didn’t have to talk to him, everything would be fine. Bato could behave himself for one party. Kya smiled at him, and Hakoda stroked the side of his hand with his thumb, and the quiet anxiety which lurked within him settled, quieted. 

“You know everyone thinks we’re fucking in here, right?” Bato said. 

“Oh yeah,” Hakoda said cheerfully and Kya snorted. 

~~~

Noski wasn’t all that interested in socializing with all the young parents and their babies who Kya had met through one Mommy and Me class or another, or the older relatives of Hakoda’s, or the errant bookshop coworker of Bato’s.

Frankly, he didn’t understand why Kyrna extended his plus-one to Noski, or why Noski hesitated for a moment to decline. There were about a thousand mistakes in a row that led him to be here, in the kitchen of his ex-husband's new boyfriend and girlfriend, scavenging off the veggie plate. 

Kyrna was in the living room chatting with one of the pairs of parents, if Noski could tell anything by the volume of his laughter. He was caught by the urge to go skulk next to him, except he’d grown out of trailing behind someone at parties when he was twelve, and frankly, he was not interested in having to listen to whatever they were chittering on about. 

It occurred to him that he could leave, go for a walk in the neighborhood, or go for a drive if he really wanted to. He shook off the idea, contenting himself to fill another plate with ranch and carrots, and other healthy, allergen-free snacks. 

He knew Bato was surprised to see him, to say the least, judging by the way he’d stared at Noski before walking straight out the backdoor, presumably to find Hakoda. 

“Excuse me,” a familiar voice sounded to Noski’s left, and Noski instinctively stepped out of the way before looking up to see Bato there. He seemed just as surprised to see him as Noski was, freezing in place. He seemed to realize it was too late to back out, quickly reaching for some fruit.

Noski didn’t know what to do, and didn’t want to retreat. He grabbed himself some more food, trying to figure out what Kyrna would want and attempting to ignore the eyes he could feel on him. 

“Fun party,” Noski finally said conversationally, though he couldn’t resist getting a bit of a dig in. “Hakoda sure knows a lot of fun people. I think there were about three grandmothers who patted my cheek on the way here.”

It didn’t get him the reaction he was hoping for, Bato’s brows furrowing together. 

“I just meant, you know,” Noski tried to backtrack, “we used to throw some good parties back in the day--”

“The door is right there, if you don’t want to be here,” Bato interrupted. “Hakoda didn’t have to invite you.” So Hakoda was the one who had invited him. Noski had wondered, _hoped_ a small treacherous part of his mind whispered, if it had been Bato who had dropped the idea. 

“Yeah well. Like you said, I was invited.” Besides, leaving Kyrna now would be an asshole move. 

“And I have no idea why—” Bato muttered and Noski thumped his cup down to the counter with a clunk. 

“Now? You really want to do this now?”

“Maybe I do,” Bato said, folding his arms. The kitchen door opened, an older man stepping in from the backyard for a refill of his cup before heading back out, the faint noises of the people talking outside getting drowned out once again. The ceiling fan spun overhead, the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. Bato wouldn’t back down, Noski knew. 

“Whatever,” Noski muttered finally. He threw his napkin down and turned for the door. Bato’s voice stopped him in his place. 

“God you’re pathetic. I don’t know why Kyrna stays with you.“

Noski stilled, hands clenching at his sides before he turned around. 

“Probably,” he said, “because he actually loves me. It’s not something you’d have experience in, I know. You wanna talk pathetic, how about marrying me when you’d already been in love with Hakoda for years?” his voice was rising now, and tui, this was exactly what Bato had wanted but he couldn't stop himself. “Pathetic is marrying someone else because you’re too fucking scared of being alone. Does your boytoy know he’s the reason our marriage ended, or was that just a plus for him?”

“Is that what you think,” Bato said incredulously. He laughed, but the sound held no mirth. “You really think Hakoda is the reason we got divorced. Fucking typical. It might interest you to know that Hakoda and I didnt even get together until a _year_ after I left you. But of course that wouldn't let you do the thing you do best, which is blame other people for your own mistakes.”

 _“My_ mistakes? So we’re pinning all the blame on me now, is that what we’re doing? When you were the one who didn't even try?”

Their voices were so loud now they could probably be heard through the windows. That theory was confirmed a few seconds later when Hakoda burst in, Kyrna following worriedly behind him. 

Kyrna laid a questioning hand on Noski’s shoulder, but Noski did not acknowledge it, gritting his teeth when Hakoda mirrored the gesture, Bato shrugging it off plainly. They could end the conversation here, if they wanted, and get some space from each other.

“Bato,” Hakoda ventured quietly. “Why don’t you go check on Sokka?” 

Noski could see the muscle flex in the corner of Bato’s jaw, but he nodded tightly. “Sure,” he said, turning stiffly toward the backdoor. 

“Oh right, I forgot,” Noski shot at his turned back. “You’re all about kids now. Funny how things change. Do you change his diapers too or do you save that for his real parents?”

Bato’s stilled, and there was something in his voice when he spoke that reminded Noski of the worst days of their marriage, when every conversation seemed to end in a fight. It made his blood sing in his ears: finally, finally a reaction. 

“Fuck you,” Bato said turning towards him, and his voice was shaking and low. “You think you can just come here and say that to me now?” His hands were shaking, and Noski ignored the stunned look on Hakoda’s face where he could see him over Bato’s shoulder. “I tried so hard to be what you wanted and all you could see was what wasn’t there. Here’s a reality check for you: _you_ were the problem,” his volume was rising now, and he pointed a strong yet shaking finger at Noski’s chest, “Not Hakoda. And your weird obsession with him is getting on my last fucking nerve. God, he has everything you want and you can’t stand it, can you?” He laughed humorlessly. “Me, a kid, he even had your boyfriend sucking his dick, doesn’t that just eat at you? How does it feel knowing you’re always the second choice?” 

Noski dug his nails into his palms. He could see Bato taking that in, see the ugly triumph that crossed his face and this, too, he had forgotten: how Bato could take every weakness and tear into it with ruthless precision.

“You know what I think,” Noski said, voice low. “I think you were happy she died.” He knew he went too far when he saw the look on Bato’s face, that jeering smile falling straight off. But Noski couldn’t stop himself from twisting the knife. "You never fucking cared, not about me, not us, not about our baby.”

Bato stepped into his space. “I’m just happy I didn’t get stuck raising a family with _you_.” 

Noski’s heart thudded in his ears, barely hearing himself speak. “I don’t know how the hell I ever married such a cold bitch—“

He could see it in slow motion the moment Bato snapped. The fist that came hurtling towards his jaw wasn’t a surprise, and he shut his eyes, preparing for the sweet pain. It didn’t come. 

He opened his eyes. With it sound returned as well, suddenly popping around him as if he had been stuck in a balloon and was now returning. Hakoda— because of course it was Hakoda, the man couldn’t even let him have a fight in peace— was restraining Bato against himself as Bato screamed himself hoarse, saying things that Noski couldn’t understand and didn’t want to. He was suddenly aware of hands on his shoulder and his back, solid this time, and he looked to his side to find Kyrna’s worried eyes swimming in front of him. 

~~~

“Stop it, Bato!” Bato jammed his elbow into Hakoda’s stomach and Hakoda wheezed, letting go for a moment. He was back again in a second, grasping Batos wrists more firmly and holding him so he couldn’t escape. 

“Let, me, go!” Bato gritted out, thrashing against him. 

“No. You’re going to hurt yourself, just—“ the door slammed shut, Kyrna and Noski both gone and the hands released him immediately. 

“What’d you do that for!” Bato whirled on Hakoda, breath coming in short pants. He felt raw, exposed like a nerve and all of Noski’s words were coming back and weaving into the synapses of his brain, firing quicker and quicker. Pathetic. Cold. Our baby, my child, blood on the sheets and a hollow feeling in his chest. The thought just made him angrier, stoked the flames in his chest. “I had it under control!”

“Control? You were a second away from beating his face in, you—“ he cut off, breathing deeply. “Upstairs,” Hakoda snapped. He manhandled Bato up the stairway, dragging him by the arm and Bato stumbled with him out the hallway. 

“That was between me and him,” he hissed. The world felt far away, like he was getting his information in slow motion and could only react with it. “There was no reason for you to get involved.”

“Okay,” Hakoda said lowly. “Just out of curiosity, what were you planning on doing after you punched him? He walks out of here with a black eye and you, what? Pretend it didn’t happen? Hope he doesn’t call the cops?”

“I would have punched him again,” Bato growled, and he hoped Noski could hear him through the thin walls. 

Hakoda didn’t say anything. The door slammed shut behind them, quiet voices filtering out and Bato felt a sudden rush of shame. “Sokka—“

“He’s fine. Kya has him.”

“Fuck. I didn’t mean to...” Didn’t mean to what? Get into a fight with his ex husband at his kid’s birthday? His breath was coming in shaky. Blood on the sheets, a soft bundle in his arms, a feeling of wrong wrong wrong pounding in his chest, Noski’s comforting hand on his shoulder and him turning away—

“...look at me, come on Bato, look at me.” 

He was on the floor, he realized all of a sudden, soft carpet under his hands or no, was it the cool wood of the bedroom he and Noski had shared?

He needed air, felt choked for it in the dark. He breathed in a shuddering gasp, then another immediately after. His breaths became ragged and wet and faster, his ears ringing as he hunched in on himself trying to block out everything that was becoming too much. 

“Hey,” Hakoda said, his voice soft. He was kneeling on the floor beside Bato, hands on his shoulders trying to coax him to look up. “Hey, please look at me?” Bato shrugged his hands off hard on instinct, burying his face as best he could. “Bato, please.” 

“Please _what_?” he snapped. “Leave me alone.” 

“Bato--” 

“Just leave me alone! Shit, Hakoda,” he said, annoyed. He could see Hakoda flinch back in his peripheral, and immediately regretted it. 

“Okay,” Hakoda said. “I’ll leave you alone.” 

The door clicked shut, and alone Bato was. His breathing evening out mildly-- until he hiccupped and he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. A whimper caught him off guard, and then he couldn’t stop. 

His stomach convulsed with each sob, wracking his body against his will. He knew his face was crumpled, horrible, a monster crying over himself instead of his baby as he knew he should. But then, he was crying for her too, for the little bundle in his arms for only two days. 

Something was wrong with him, it occurred to him. He pushed everyone away-- Noski, and now Hakoda. He was horrible, horrible, cold, pathetic. His nails dug into his palms until his knuckles hurt more than his flesh, then dug harder until his bones creaked. 

The door clicked again, and Bato was distracted for a moment, his breath hitching. 

“Bato?” came Kya’s voice, gentle and smooth. Bato peeked out of his arms, realizing how wet his cheeks were for the first time. Hakoda must have sent her in. He couldn’t respond. Kya sat heavily beside him on the floor, cradling her stomach, and he turned his face away from her feebly. He braced himself for what she had to say, but she just leaned against his arm silently, providing a solid, warm presence. 

They sat like that, Bato only somewhat trying to reel himself in, his head starting to pound from his shallow gasps, for several long minutes before she slowly curled her hand around his bicep. The rubber band tightening around his heart snapped at the touch, and he let out a ragged gasp and turned into her waiting arms. She wrapped her arm around his still hunched shoulders, her other hand grasping securely at the back of his neck. Bato tucked his face into her neck, gasping around more involuntary sobs. 

Kya was breathing against Bato’s temple, slow and even, and he tried to match hers despite persistent shudders. Despite this, he could feel the pressure in his chest and head and stomach releasing bit by bit, letting him breathe in the floral scent of her hair. 

Her breaths were slowing further as Bato finally calmed enough to match them. 

“Kya,” he rasped, and she kissed the top of his head in response, a silent _I’m listening_. “I’m sorry.” 

She slid one hand down his arm, taking his hand in her hand and running her thumb along the side of it, preparing to say something when instead she turned his hand over suddenly, breathing in sharply. 

“What’s this?” she asked, and he looked at his hand with just as much shock as she did. He must have dug his nails into his palm harder than he thought, four angry red crescent shaped welts still there-- and one sliced into his skin and blood trickling into the lines of his hand. 

She blew out a breath, looking at his hand. “Come on,” she said and he followed after her, hand clutched tightly in his. In the bright lights of the bathroom he felt more exposed, the evidence of his breakdown more clear. He sat on the top of the toilet, head bent. 

“You really did a number on yourself,” she murmured, first aid kit open on her lap as she sat on the edge of the tub. 

“The party,” he said wretchedly. “You’ve been planning for so long, I ruined it—“

“You haven’t ruined anything,” Kya said firmly. She retrieved the cotton swabs from the kit, pressing it against the top of the antiseptic bottle and tilting the bottle, the sharp smell of it filling the air. 

“I keep hurting people,” he dug his nails into his hands, and as he said it he felt the truth of it settle in his gut. “I don’t mean to. Hakoda, and you, and... Noski. I didn’t realize.”

“I think,” Kya said quietly, “you hurt exactly who you wanted, actually.” Bato had nothing to say to that, so he stayed silent, the only sound the quiet swishing of the antiseptic. It stung, but the mild bite was a welcome distraction from the shit going on in his head. He looked up and Kya was looking back, too piercing eyes missing nothing. “I hate seeing you like this,” she murmured. 

“Sorry,” he rasped, then cleared his throat. 

“Don’t. I don’t— I don’t want you to apologize.”

“Then what do you want me to do?”

“Be a little gentler with each other, maybe. With yourself.” She let him mull that over as she dabbed at his arm. He was vaguely surprised to see the long scratches up his arms, raw and bleeding in spots. He didn’t remember doing that.

“I don’t—“ he shook his head. Kya just continued at his arm, carefully, painstakingly cleaning each long scratch. He felt the familiar prick behind his eyes, and blinked past it. 

“When we first started out,” he began, “I just-- we were so happy. I’d never loved anyone the way I loved him, nothing even compared. And when he said he wanted kids, well, that’s only natural, right?” 

Kya hummed, turning his arm slightly, hands soft against his skin. She pulled the roll of gauze out of the first aid kit, beginning to roll it over his wrist. 

Bato breathed deeply before continuing. “She was four pounds when she was born, enough to survive, maybe. They kept her in an incubation tube, but I was allowed to hold her, just for a few--” he cut off, throat tight until he could speak again. “A few hours,” he rasped. “Noski though, he never left her side. He was absolutely certain she was going to live, wouldn’t hear any different no matter what the doctors told him to prepare for.” 

Kya, bless her, kept her focus on her hands, dutifully tightening the bandage, securing it in place. 

She kept her eyes down diligently as she tied it off, then rested her hand on Bato’s wrist. He couldn’t tell if she was going to speak or let the silence stretch. Maybe she didn’t know what she was going to do, either. 

Her breath was a touch faster than normal, he realized. He realized, too, that this may very well be the first time he really talked about it-- and on Sokka’s birthday, of all times. 

“I can’t imagine how awful that was,” she whispered, and Bato wanted to crumple into her. She ran her hand up and down his bicep soothingly. 

“You are so strong, Bato. And such a good dad to Sokka.” 

He looked at her in surprise, then blinked back the involuntarily tears materializing in his eyes. She was smiling encouragingly, and he let his shoulders drop without even realizing how tightly he’d been holding them. He hadn’t realized until now how much it worried him, the thought that he might not be a good dad to Sokka, that maybe he was just destined to be a bad parent. That maybe there was a reason why he'd never been able to have kids. 

“All done,” Kya said finally, tossing the swabs into the trash and setting the kit away. She offered him a smile, the same one that had led him out of the lowest points of his life and maybe, with that smile he could get through this too. 

~~~

Noski’s hands were shaking. 

They had been since he left the party in a whirl, not even sparing a word to Kyrna before he was out the door and in the car. He wasn't sure why it was that one tiny insignificant detail his mind had chosen to latch onto, that fine tremor which he couldn’t quite stop, but there it was. 

It was a miracle he hadn’t caused an accident on the way here— he’d hardly noticed the cars shifting around him as he went forty, sixty, seventy on the highway. He wasn’t sure where he was now— some gas station in the middle of nowhere which looked like every other in the world, blinking billboards and empty gas pumps. 

The car was still thrumming around him, hot air wafting from the vents. Noski turned the key, car going silent around him. 

He gripped the wheel for a moment longer, mind racing as it processed and processed, then clicked into the present. “ _Damn it_ ,” he shouted at the windshield, slapping the meat of his right hand into the wheel, shockwaves shooting up his arm. “Fuck!” 

He’d run away. Again. 

He rested his forehead against the top of the wheel and let out a shuddering breath. 

There was too much pressure in his head, all the thoughts and regrets and insecurities pushing to get out-- so he let them. With another gasping breath, he squeezed his eyes shut and let tears fall hot over his cheeks. 

He kept his breathing even and slow even as his lungs screamed for more air, hands gripping tight and steady on the wheel. 

He had left Kyrna there, too, and would have to pick him up. Taking one more deep breath, he swiped at his cheeks harshly, feeling the cuffs of his jacket reddening the thin skin but not caring. He grabbed his phone and his wallet and opened the door casually, going through the motions of filling his tank as if he weren’t still crying, eyes and cheeks surely red. As the pump worked, he texted Kyrna. 

~~~

The next day was a cloudless one , bright sun beaming down onto the front stoop of Bato’s house. It was a small house, homely with a faded wrap around porch that added to its quaintness— the kind of place to raise kids, rocking them to sleep on a hammock. Noski pushed the thought down, and knocked on the tall wooden door. 

There was a long moment of silence after Noski knocked on the front door. He wrung his hands together, trying to swallow down the dread that threatened to crawl up his throat like reflux. 

He should just go back to his car and go home. What was he hoping to gain here, exactly? Bato was going to think he was stupid for coming back so far. Or pathetic. 

He heard shuffling on the other side of the door and then silence, presumably as someone checked the peephole. He tried to look casual. 

The door unlocked and opened a crack.

“What do you want?” came Bato’s voice. 

Noski steeled himself. “I want to--” and his voice broke, embarrassingly. He forced himself to finish, though, and said, “I wanted to apologize.” 

There was another long beat, and Noski fully expected the door to be slammed shut. Instead, he was surprised when it was opened wider, revealing Bato in a baggy t-shirt and jeans, a skeptical expression on his face. Then he stood to the side and motioned for him to come in. 

The living room was dark, only one light on, and the kitchen was unusually quiet. 

“I’m watching the kid,” Bato explained, voice gruff like he hadn’t done a lot of talking yet today. Noski followed him to the kitchen in silence. “Coffee?” Bato asked, already reaching for the cabinet where the mugs were kept. Noski shook his head no, but Bato didn’t see that before grabbing only one mug. Bato remembered that Noski didn’t drink caffeine. 

Bato turned to the coffee machine, waving vaguely toward the kitchen table behind him. Noski took a seat gingerly. 

Now came the worst part of every conversation with Bato, in Noski’s experience-- trying to anticipate which direction Bato would take it. 

He watched Bato’s movements as best he could-- they were slow and imprecise, not anything like the way Bato would clean or cook when he was angry at Noski back then. No, he was moving sluggishly-- though Noski could just be reading too much into his uncaffeinated state.

Bato joined him at the table, sitting opposite and setting his mug down heavily between them. He seemed fascinated with his own hand wrapped around the mug handle, his other hand fidgeting on his knee. 

Inhaling before he spoke, Noski was still trying to formulate his sentence when Bato hummed a negative sound that made him shut his mouth again. So Bato wanted to speak first. 

He struggled with formulating the sentence, too, it seemed. 

They’d had their struggles, and in the end they outweighed the easy moments. There was no surprise then, when Bato went home to visit his ailing mother and only came back to tell Noski he’d realized ‘they had different goals in life’ and he ‘needed time for himself.’ He left Noski with everything, only collected what was unarguably his. Noski found friends and family to disseminate most of their daughter’s items to, practicing what to say and how to smile as they thanked him. 

Bato had always struggled with apologies, back then-- and Noski struggled to follow through on promises to change when _he_ apologized. They had so much in common, for better and for worse. 

Bato brought the mug up to his mouth and took a long sip, still not looking at Noski. Replacing it on the table, he leaned forward and opened his mouth, inhaling to speak and finally making eye contact with Bato-- at which point he deflated again and his eyes darted away. “I said things I shouldn’t have,” he forced himself to say. “Yesterday. I’m sorry.”

Noski swallowed. “Me too.” There was more to say, there was always more to say, but then a sound was coming from the kitchen and Bato was up and grabbing a baby monitor before Noski registered the sound as a mechanical echo of Sokka’s cries. 

“Let me,” Bato said, gesturing vaguely toward the kid’s room before disappearing from the kitchen. He was left wringing his hands conscientiously under the table until Bato returned a few minutes later, bouncing Sokka in his arms. The boy was still fussing, but growing more muted as Bato pressed kisses to his head and hummed. 

Noski watched patiently as Bato hushed the child, tucking his little head against his collar and singing a soft lullaby, conscientiously hushed under Noski’s gaze.

Sokka’s little fingers grasped at the collar of Bato’s shirt, his chubby cheek squishing against Bato’s chest as he found a comfortable position to fall asleep, Bato bouncing him as best he could. The little boy was growing big as little boys do, and Noski had seen Kya and Hakoda growing stronger as they continued hefting him around in backpacks and papooses and in their arms. He usually averted his gaze when it was Bato’s turn. Today he made himself watch the way Bato stroked the boy’s cheek. 

It only took a few minutes before Sokka was slumped, body relaxed in Bato’s arms.. Bato seemed to consider whether he should take him back to his crib or not. He decided on the latter, carefully taking his seat once more. 

Bato continued to hum, bouncing Sokka minutely, hand on the back of his head to keep him in place. His eyes were on the ground, and Noski knew that was no accident. 

The silence, only softened by Bato’s fading hums, pressed in on them in the otherwise empty dining room of Bato’s home, decorated by pictures of Hakoda’s family and Kya’s woven tapestries and heirloom furs. 

“You know,” Bato started, voice still hushed and hand now rubbing Sokka’s back in a soothing circle. “What hurts is,” he said before trailing off again. Noski could see his vision shake with the force of his heartbeat and he needed Bato to finish his thought-- but he recoiled from it at the same time. 

Sokka made one of his soft baby noises, clicking his little tongue as he readjusted the way his head laid on Bato’s shoulder. Bato cradled the back of his head once again, leaning his cheek against the boy’s hair without a thought. Then he grimaced, eyes squeezed shut. His lips pursed and his brow furrowed and he looked a decade or two older.

“I wanted it to work,” Bato said, a whisper against Sokka’s wispy hair. “I wanted to have that life with you.” Noski registered Bato’s eyes on him, and had to look away. 

His heart fell straight through his chest, melting through the ribs in the most sickening way. Bato wasn’t done. 

“Despite what you might think, I…” Bato closed his eyes again and sighed against the top of Sokka’s head. “I loved you. I loved Hakoda then, too, but not how you think. It wasn’t like it is now. And… I still love you, it’s just changed.” 

Noski felt that he should say something but his throat had closed up. He swallowed around the block and tried to speak, then swallowed again. “I wasn’t…” _Good enough. There for you. Ready._ “I didn’t know what to do. Back then I mean. I didn’t know how to talk to you about it.” 

Bato held very still, cheek pressing ever closer to Sokka, but Noski could see the way his jaw slackened, corners of his mouth pulling down and trembling in a tell tale sign of deep upset. These were the things Noski watched for years ago, trying to gauge whether he could hug Bato better or had to prepare for a yelling match. 

Bato sighed, petting Sokka’s soft baby hair near the nape of the little guy’s neck. “Before… her,” Bato said, and it took a moment for Noski to connect who he was talking about-- even so many years later, he still avoided her name, “I had talked to Kanna about… _things_ that had been going on.” 

“With us?” Noski asked, surprised. 

“With me,” Bato said, and his voice dropped to a lower timber as if he was worried Sokka, still cradled in his arms, would overhear.. “She thought I probably had…” Bato trailed off again, and it occurred to Noski that this was a rare occasion that Bato struggled to say what was on his mind. He sighed again, the air he exhaled heavy. “Lost a child,” he said, carefully, choosing his words. Nonetheless, it felt like a punch to the mouth. 

“Before…?” 

Bato nodded, again avoiding Noski’s eyes. 

“You never told me that,” Noski said, his voice weakening as he spoke, the wind knocked from his lungs, unsure if he was angry or sorrowful. Maybe it was somewhere in between. 

“I didn’t know how to.” 

Noski’s lungs froze in his chest, unable to breathe and eyes glued to the side of Bato’s face. He wanted to call Bato’s bluff, or turn away and leave and refuse to believe it. 

Of course it would be difficult to tell Noski back then-- and then they learned about their daughter within a few months, if Noski understood the timeline. 

His chest was thawing slowly, trickles of cold water down his back making him shiver, the rumble of melting ice like the shift of icebergs on the water roared in his ears and throat, and he tried to quiet his gasp before the first tear fell. 

He wanted to reach out to Bato, give him comfort a decade overdue, but he grasped the slack fabric of his pants on his knees instead, furrowing his brow desperately to will his eyes dry but instead squeezing out several more heavy tears. He swiped at his face uselessly. 

Bato’s eyes were heavy on him now as he tried to keep his breathing under control, knowing an errant gasp or shudder would wake the baby. Bato placed his hand on the back of Sokka’s head again, rocking his body forward and back before he leaned forward to his feet. “I’m going to put him down,” Bato explained as he turned to the hallway toward the bedrooms. So Noski sat in the living room silently, wiping his face raw and feeling every photographed eye on him, staring down from the walls until he couldn’t take it, folding forward to cover his face in his hands. 

Shuffling footsteps announced Bato’s return, but Noski didn’t look up as he heard him go to the kitchen. Water poured and glass clinked and the slow rhythm of Bato’s steps came to stop beside Noski. He chanced a glance up and found Bato standing there, offering a glass of water. Noski moved to take it from him, but his hands shook terribly. Bato must have noticed because he set it on the nearest surface with a pitying frown. 

Bato was always better with these things. 

“I was--” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “I really was a shit husband, wasn’t I?” He didn’t let himself look away from Bato’s face, needing to see his reaction. Bato simply pursed his lips. Noski’s head was starting to hurt. 

“No,” Bato said quietly. Noski cocked his head and raised his brows, still furrowed together in a shadow of sarcastic disbelief until he saw Bato’s quiet downcast gaze. His hands, now empty, were linked together, all but wringing together. 

“Bato?” 

“I said things yesterday I shouldn’t have.” For a moment it seemed he would leave it at that. “I do think about us, sometimes. How it could’ve been different.” 

“How?” Noski breathed, and Bato looked at him with eyes that made Noski regret asking. 

“We were so young,” Bato said, somewhere between rueful and nostalgic. “And it just worked so well, before.” He chewed on his lip for a brief moment. “We didn’t have to rush like we did. It hurt, after… We never talked about it. It felt like you didn’t care.” 

“That’s not--” 

“Clearly,” Bato interrupted him with a raised hand, not unkindly but not overly friendly. He put his hand back on his own thigh, absently rubbing his palm over the rough texture of his jeans. 

Noski realized the tears were drying on his face, his mouth dry, and he reached for the glass that Bato had brought for him. 

“We could barely communicate,” Bato said softly. “Can you imagine if we’d brought a child into that?” 

They let that hang in the air. 

“I wish it could’ve gone differently,” Noski said, not knowing exactly what he was going to say when he started. Bato looked at him, and he knew the sentiment was returned. A muffled cry came from the kitchen, and Noski sat up and blinked in the direction of the sound.

Bato gave a weak wry smile as he pushed himself to his feet again, grabbing the baby monitor from just inside the kitchen, waving it at Noski. Sokka made a happy gurgling sound through the monitor and Bato sighed, studying the buttons on the side of the monitor before clicking something. A quiet buzzing melody played through the speaker now.

“Hope that works,” Bato said, taking his seat once more with the baby monitor still in hand. He closed his second hand over the first on the monitor and rested on his lap. His eyes slid shut. There was something to be said, and Noski steeled himself to hear it as Bato steeled himself to say it. “I’m sorry we left each other alone like that.” 

Noski breathed, glacial water surging back up in his chest, and breathed again. Then the momentum of that water brought him to his feet and threw him forward until he wrapped his arms around Bato’s shoulders in a tight embrace. Bato stiffened for a moment, not expecting the frigid cold of the water, before he melted too, wrapping his arms around Noski’s ribs.

**Author's Note:**

> You ever make an OC and wanna squeeze ‘em just to see what happens ?
> 
> we're bakodas and kdmcolorfulmagic on tumblr :)))


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